


Tsillah and Her Thorns

by BlueAce



Series: The Darkness I Once Knew, I Know Again [1]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Dark Ages, Destiny, Dredgen Yor - Freeform, Gen, Guardian - Freeform, Shadow of Yor - Freeform, Thorn - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:15:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21872056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueAce/pseuds/BlueAce
Summary: “I spoke today with a new Warlock. They had heard of you, and asked me to tell your tale. I did so, and as I did their eyes grew larger and larger. Guardian, the truth of your legend was more than this fresh Warlock could hear. If they come to you, be gentle. This life offers too many harsh and cruel lessons as is.” -Ikora ReyHere we step into the story of Tsillah. The one you know and love from Malfeasance and the other little story's. This is Tsillah before Destiny 2 events, someone some of you won't recognize but all legends have their origins. We shall dive back into the one and only Destiny and we shall explore the past before Nassir.
Series: The Darkness I Once Knew, I Know Again [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1578064
Kudos: 1





	1. Ghost Fragment 1: /Eddiwen, but I'll call you Wen.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, I might have been doing another mini story thing besides "The First Light". Cause, for me at least, Tsillah is a more personal character than Aeluin (for multiple reasons) (and plus Tsillah is my original Destiny character---the first one made so I gotta treat her with love too) and Malfeasance was her mini-intro and now I thought about sharing her story (and mine) with our Destiny stuff and other stuff (because that makes total sense, right?)

Being born again isn’t something everyone gets to experience. Births hold joy, anticipation, expectation, mystery, happiness, dread, sorrow, and the unknown that no one can expect. It is a gift, yet a burden. To live again, to breathe again, to walk again. Not as a child from their mother, but as a being rising from the Earth as their old self, but in all aspects, new. A new spirit, a new mind, a new heart, and soul. I don’t know what I was like before the Light graced its presence into my soul, but I was someone. I do want to know the past, but I also fear it. I don’t want to know who I was before, yet I crave for satisfaction and closure. A never-ending battle. Do I look to the past for answers or shall I forge a future from the here and now? 

I still do not have an answer. 

But I will find one. 

My story starts like any other Guardian’s. Their Ghost found them after years and years of searching throughout the universe. Planet after planet, moon after moon, solar system after solar system, until they found the one. My Ghost had quite the time finding me. She claims centuries past before I was ever discovered. I don’t know the length of time that I was classified as dead, but it must have been ages upon ages. That much I believe. Or somehow is deemed logical. 

She rambles on about how hard it was to find someone tucked away in a stray cavern, once again, I do not blame her. In a secluded cave would be the last place I’d search for a Guardian. I don’t know what I was doing up there, but I had a purpose, once upon a time. And now, I have a new calling. To be a Guardian. To be in the Light. To follow the Traveler. To protect those I hold close. To save planets and other life forms. To stand side by side with those who are like me. 

I just wish it was that smooth. One could only dream and I certainly did. 

Clawing my way out of that moss-covered crevasse was a task, I accidentally frightened away some wildlife once I tumbled out of the crack and flat on my face. It wasn’t pleasant, but I was free. My Ghost couldn’t stop laughing for minutes on end while I glared at her with sticks, twigs, and leaves all tangled in my hair. Once she caught her breath (if possible) she introduced herself and I nodded my head in response. I didn’t have a name, so I didn’t reply right away. She understood the circumstance I was in and needed to get me to the Tower right away. 

A Warlock was born, and Ikora would be thrilled about a new Guardian. 

She guided me to the City, chattering on and on about how happy she was to finally find a Guardian and start the journey with someone by her side. Not the other way around, but she was thrilled to be with someone. 

I found it strange that an artificial life form could feel and sense deep happiness and purpose. It was baffling. I guess personal sensations and goals go deeper than flesh or metal exterior. It’s more than a simple heart, mind, and soul concept, but instead, an understanding throughout all existing life. Maybe it’s something we all have, even if we are created.

While she was having the time of her Light-filled life, I found myself feeling alienated and pushed to the side, even though these present were others like me. Other Guardian’s, touched by the same Light, called by the same Traveler. I pushed myself into a shady spot underneath a branching, blooming tree. A feeling of loneliness falls over us, but it is peaceful. Mostly.

“You know,” she speaks up, “maybe you could give yourself a name. Instead of someone giving you one. It’s an idea.” 

“But what do I call myself? I don’t know who I am. I don’t know how I react in certain situations. I don’t know much about myself besides I was dead and now I’m alive by a miracle.” 

“The Light does strange things we can’t explain, but we take it as a blessing.” I rest my head upon the bark of the tree, a sudden sense of sleepiness comes over me. 

“A blessing it shall be then.” My Ghost plops down onto the flowers surrounding the base of the tree. I tilt my head to the side and observe the scene before me. A smile spreads across my face. “I might not know my name, but I know yours.” her pale shell jolts with excitement. 

“What is it?!” 

“Eddiwen, or Wen for short.” she relaxes into the wildflowers, her blue eye starting to close.

“I like Wen. It suites, somehow.” 

“I like it too.” 

And from that moment on, I knew I could count on her, no matter who or what we faced. 

>>>

The transition from death to life sure leaves one sore and majorly uncomfortable. Unless the lack of comfort came from sleeping against a tree with some uprooted roots. Whatever the reason, I know I must move. I rub my back as the moon starts to rise from the distant horizon. Wen stretches and hums in content. At least one of us got decent rest. She sits on top of my head and a few strands of pale, silver hair come into my view. 

Silver hair? Me? I didn’t die from old age. At least, I don’t think so.

“Wen, what’s wrong with my hair?” she chuckles at my question. 

“Nothing is wrong with your hair, Guardian-” 

“But I’m human, aren’t I?” Wen shell tilts to the side, her eye shuttering at my dumbfounded face. 

“You could kind of say that..?” I clasp my hands onto my cheeks. 

“What do you mean by that?” 

“I think Ikora could explain that better.” I slowly stand up. A lump starts growing in my throat. My fingers weave in and out of one another as we travel down the stairs. 

We pass by other Guardians (some run or jump or slide out of the way), but their armor is different. And their faces reflect diversity. Ordinary humans, detailed machines, and non-human but they have similar physical features as human anatomy. Wen explains the other two Classes, they are called Titan and Hunter. They sound as their Class looks. Titan as a shield or protector and Hunter as...well a hunter. Someone who lurks in a darkened corner or is naturally camouflaged by their surroundings then strikes. Both are treacherous nonetheless. 

A sudden pounding thud causes me to jump into the air. Wen remains still and unaffected as I’m on the floor. Guess I’m not the one with such grace and elegance. I wish I was. 

“Lord Shaxx!” my Ghost flies into the bundle of armor fur without hesitation. I gulp as a colossal Guardian rises from his chair. How is she so friendly to a giant? One would run away out of fear at his stature, but there have been multitudes who approach him as if a father or close friend. 

“Little Light! How nice of you to stop by!” his head turns towards me. I somehow contain the nerves in my body and don’t tremble like a leaf in his brooding presence. His very essence screams ‘respect’ and ‘honor’. None of which I have. “You found your Guardian!” he erupts with joy as if he is a young child. I scratch the side of my head. Surely this can’t be Ikora. I think Wen said his name was Lord Shaxx? Shaxx turns his attention towards me. “Pardon my manners, I didn’t introduce myself. I am Lord Shaxx, but please just call me Shaxx. I am the Crucible handler and mentor. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” his politeness catches me off guard. 

I clear my throat. “It’s nice to meet you too,” I beam from ear to ear. His grip is firm, strong, and could easily crush stone into a fine dust. He would be an incredible ally. 

With our small exchange dealt with, he then introduces me to his handy work. I don’t know if he realized it, but he continued to bring up the phrase “at first the Vanguard didn’t understand” constantly. I don’t understand what the so-called Vanguard was supposed to understand, but it deals with his work and creation he is clearly proud of. Testing one’s physical, mental, and emotional levels in the battlefield with teammates by your side. It is quite fascinating how teamwork and strategy win over supposed losses. Fantastic. Outstanding. Utterly phenomenal. 

We must have spent hours in front of those data tablets and wall screens, cheering on both sides, critiquing the tactics, defense mechanisms, and schemes and giving our own advice on every situation. The air around us was warm, soothing, peaceful, almost as if before a stone firepit with the stars hanging over us. Just with more yelling and encouraging notions, but still tranquil beyond doubt. Our own sort of perfection. 

I didn’t know how much of an influence or bond we would have on one another, but over time Shaxx became more than a father figure, not just a generous mentor, or dear friend and ally, but something more. I can’t quite put my finger on it, I’ll figure it out later. 

Shaxx lays his head in his hands as the team who was falling behind nearly made a full comeback. They lost only by four points, I can sense their frustration through the screen. A heavy cloud of silence and discomfort hangs over the Fireteam. I wish I could comfort them, tell them that a loss isn’t a loss but, merely a lesson for one to win. But they probably wouldn’t listen to the likes of me. I’m hardly known. Who would take advice from an unreliable source?

“Your Crucible, how can I join it?” 

“Well, firstly, you’ll need a weapon. Bare hands which are firm and skillful are needed for battle, but not they aren’t the only tool. A sharp mind, strong fists, a just heart, and profession with weaponry are the keys to victory.” 

“That oddly sounds familiar. Eerie almost. Kind of haunting.” Shaxx scoffs and leans back in his chair. His arms now crossed in front of his chest. 

“That was from one of the greatest minds of the earlier century, in the midst of the Dark Ages yet in the transition to greater times if I am to remember. Sadly she left us at such a young age. A brilliant mind she had. I would have simply loved to meet her, to hold a conversation of one who left her home due to War and forces she couldn’t deny or repel. To be alone in the Wilderness and didn’t fear or tremble in the face of those who tried to take her life. Such wisdom, love, and caring nature bloomed from loneliness, grief, and loss.” Shaxx sighs and his head sways, side to side. “If she were to be a Guardian, she would have been a legend that in herself. She wouldn’t have needed medals or titles, just to be herself would be unreachable glory and honor.” 

I relax into the free chair next to him. The one Frame stares me down. I mentally apologize. “You speak as if you lived in that time.” Shaxx laughs. 

“I’ve seen ages, centuries, and decades in my time, young one. Guardian’s rising and falling, the City and the Tower changing and forging into a place of protection and strength for those who are unable to protect themselves, and also to harbor those who are one with the Traveler. I would be lying if I’d say her mind and influence didn’t bleed into us as we, those touched by the Light, were in her time too. But not known by Guardian and Light-bearer, but Risen, Followers of the Light, Followers of the Traveler, names that aren’t spoken so lightly.” I lean into his words, unknown of the time passing by. Not knowing, or caring for that matter, if it was night or day. I was enticed and enchanted with his tales of old. 

“Why is that? What power could titles from the past hold onto?” 

“The Dark Ages are a time that no one wants to recall. From the countless Wars and blood-filled battles, losses of Guardian’s and Lightless alike, the Iron Lords, wandering Warlords, then lastly, Rezyl Azzir and Risen misusing their power and influence on those who they deemed as weak. It was a dark time indeed. A time that such a mind of hers was seen as a threat rather than a deliverance in such dreary times. She wasn’t a savior, but a target who must be taken down.” 

“Why was her gift not received? For she sounds like such a respected being, as if one’s kings, queens, and nobles alike would call into their courts. Why was she viewed as a threat? She could have ended the wars and slaughter, going by your words.” Shaxx’s shoulders fall. 

“Her presence was known to everyone, but no one sought her out more than a Guardian who fell into Darkness. The one who I mentioned earlier and his band of Risen and commoners.”

“Rez...Rezl…?” I feel my cheeks start to flush with heat as his name is quite the name to speak. And at the moment, I can’t. 

“Rezyl Azzir, once a fellow Titan, once a Guardian, once in the Light that courses through our veins. Once honored and deemed a hero, but his will became tainted and he turned from all of those who loved him.”

“Why would he console the likes of this female philosopher?” 

“She was told to interpret dreams, visions, and have such deep insight into the unknown. Many sought out to find her, but none were able too. With no given name, tracking a person of power was deemed impossible.” 

“So, he wanted her help? Why didn’t she give it to him? Why would she turn away such a significant being? Wouldn’t that have given her more power to her name?” Shaxx stands up from his chair, silent. I tilt my head down. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pester.” 

“No, no. You aren’t doing anything wrong, it’s just these are questions that I cannot answer. I do not know her mind or her sense of justice, but whatever the reason, she didn’t lend her power to Rezyl Azzir, and he wasn’t one who took such actions...gently. If he wanted something, he got it his own way, and on his own terms. She put herself in danger without knowing it.”

“Or she took that risk, fully knowing the possible consequences.” 

I can feel his eyes bearing into mine. “It took her life.” 

I shrug my shoulders. “Rather serve those with grateful hearts like a child than greedy souls who sit upon wealth and gold.” Shaxx pulls away, still as if stone.

“Where did you hear that from? Who has told you such a thing?” 

“No one, it’s logic. People with hearts like a child find good in everything and when they are given what they wish, they are content with the outcome. Those who are greedy, on the other hand, are never content and wants to devour all it wants until it is full, which it never truly experiences. For it only craves more and more, it becomes a void, a dead star, a black hole in space. It never stops until it is put to a fitting end.” 

“You and Ikora shall get along very well. Talking about such knowledge will strengthen the bond between both of you. She has more of the philosopher’s original writing, I think you should read some of her works. It’s benefical in all terms for anyone in their walk of life.” 

“And as a starting point, that is seemed as wise indeed.” 

“Especially for a Warlock, your love of books and research surprises me.” 

I tilt my head to the side. “Do you not find it entertaining or enlightening?” 

“I do, but not constantly.” 

“The words of the past can change the future in a single moment, even if it passes you by. You are always learning. If it from books or conversations with those you know.”


	2. Ghost Fragment 2: /Ikora Rey likes herbal tea?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas peeps!!!!!

I turn onto my side against the gray stone, unsure when I fell asleep or what time of day it currently is. I lean forward and find myself covered in a thick, ruby-colored, wool blanket, and to my surprise, a worn pillow surrounded by tassels slides onto the floor. I don’t remember grabbing any type of comfort or luxury, it must have been given to me without my knowing. I rise from my seat and Shaxx shifts in front of an ongoing Crucible match. 

His lone horn greets me. Earlier it used to intimidate me, now, it’s a sign of complacency. And I am happy it is. Shaxx reclines into his swivel chair with a contentful sigh. “Did you get some rest, Guardian?” 

A yawn slips by my lips as I respond. “I guess so, though I don’t remember dozing off. What time is it anyway?” 

“Nearly dawn, you have been asleep for quite some time now. At least a day-” I feel my face flush bright red. 

“A-a day? It has been that long?” I can hardly believe it myself. Me. Someone, who was once dead for supposed years upon years, took a nap which lasted for nearly twenty-four hours. Or even more. That isn’t humanly possible. That is impossible. Period. I shouldn’t be able to do that. I shouldn’t have done it. 

Shaxx must sense the soaring fear and anxiety throughout my veins. I do not know what my face shows, but it isn’t peaceful. He slowly rises from his designated spot, hands loosely holding onto my shoulders. “Yes, though there is no need to panic. Once you are revived in the Light, your body must get used to the new life that lives in you. Being reborn into the Light takes time for your old body to become acquainted with your new form and power. Exhaustion is natural, it isn’t to feel frightened over. What happened to you has happened to us all.” I take in a shallow gulp. 

“You’re sure it isn’t anything bad? I’m not chronically ill or sick in any matter?” he chuckles, his grip becoming stronger. Not popping your shoulder out of your socket strong, but a kind gesture, one that soothes one’s worry into nothing. 

“Yes, Guardian. The highest of the high have experienced the same fatigue and weariness you are now going through. In all honesty, those who have lived long and seen many moons fall under such sleeping spells. Resting and recovering from the day’s work isn’t embarrassing or looked down upon, it is what is needed when called upon.” My heartbeat starts to slow down and I am thankful. I wouldn’t want to cause a scene. “Now, Ikora has summoned you to meet near the Speaker’s quarters in the morning. You can thank your Ghost for arranging the meeting place. While you were resting, she took the initiative for you to become one with your Warlock mentor and a good friend to us all in the Tower. Ikora Rey is almost all-knowing and an opponent you wouldn’t want to face on the battlefield. I think you two will get along quite well.” 

I shake out the fear I once held and exhale the unnecessary thoughts and sense of unease. Shaxx can’t help but smirk at my actions. I catch a glimpse of his stature. “What is it?” 

“You are a Warlock indeed, without a doubt. I can tell, not just by your words, actions, and curiosity in whatever lies before you, but you radiate a type of energy that draws people into you. Titan’s thrive in groups, Hunters are known to be alone in the Wilderness, while Warlocks can reside with others or in solitude. It’s admirable. It’s awe-inspiring.” 

“I haven’t even done anything yet,” I whisper. Taking in his compliments and delightful words are almost too much. 

“But you have done enough without even knowing it, and that is magical.” I poke the tips of my fingers together, cheeks once again flushed, but not out of shock or embarrassment. 

“Thank you,” I mumble. Lord Shaxx nods his head and I can faintly imagine a grand smile behind his visor. I wave him off and wander back into the Plaza. 

The sky is still dark and the moon is ready to set. The sun will soon rise behind the mountain range around us. Stars begin to disappear one by one into the cold, pale blue light. I inhale, taking in the crisp air and all the energy around me at this time. Birds call and fly from their perch, light beams bounce off of snow-caps above, trees lean towards the source of light, and here I am. A speck of new Light, unknown of what to expect or think of in the coming days. 

A sensation crawls over my skin as if ants or other pesky bugs in the wild. Not moments later, I immediately feel a cold shiver and a desire to itch. Whoever is close by holds power beyond common knowledge and is more than mere folklore and tall tales. This is power. This is a capability without limits. 

I pull my arms in and search the Plaza for the one who resonates with this aura. The few who are present but don’t hold to the spirit of virtue as they did. Whoever “they” are. I weave in and out of the Vaults as the Archiver continues his research in whatever topic interests him. He looks deep in his work so, I won’t disturb his concentration. I don’t bother asking others around, I wouldn’t want to disrupt whatever they are doing. If they are in groups of six or flying solo. I don’t want to hold anyone back from their designated task or quest. 

The chill in the air starts to fade. My feet pick up the pace as I venture around the levels once again. I am disappointed to find no one who matches. It doesn’t make any sense though. I felt it. I know it. I know someone is here. But why can’t I find them? I should be able to spot them easily but all I can see are other Guardians and ordinary civilians. I sit down on the stairs, heart heavy at the fact I couldn’t find whoever that was. Well, that’s not what expected but, who knows. Maybe I’ll be able to find them another day, or night depending on when they come out into the Plaza. 

The sun breaks the still horizon and a golden glow fills the Tower. Everyone seems to take in the warmth and start a new day in the right mind. We all need it. We all need the reminder that every day is a new day and a new chance at life. Even those who are born anew. The choice to breathe, the choice to continue, the choice to move forward when fears of the unknown future loom ahead. It’s all about the first step. And I’m taking mine. 

But before that, a surprise creeps up on me. 

A firm hand slaps my backside. “Carrie! I didn’t think you would make it!” I can’t help but screech at the sudden contact. I leap out of the way, eyebrows scrunched together. Their face pales over.

“Excuse me!?” I gasp. They clasp their hands together and gently bow. 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I thought you were someone else!” My fingers curl around my chest plate and put it back into its place. With a huff, I calm my beating heart. 

I’m quick to fix the situation...and easy to scare. Pros and cons of a new personality and charisma. The good and the bad. We all have them. This Hunter simply mistook you for someone else, there is no need to lecture them about approaching strangers. 

“It’s alright, I accept your apology, I forgive you,” the look on the Hunter’s face washes over with relief. So much I think they might cry. 

“Thank you, thank you so much. I truly am so sorry.” a subtle shift continues near the Vaults and a similar hairstyle shines in the growing crowd. I think I found whoever they were supposed to meet up. 

“It’s alright, just make sure it’s Carrie. By the way, I think I see her.” Their purple eyes light up with joy and their pale cheeks have some color. Ah. This is a turn of events. 

“Really? Really?” I turn them around and point near Rahool. There stands a heavily plated Titan conversing with Rahool about weapons and more armor. Logical guess. I don’t know if it’s true. 

“Really.” The two Guardian’s gazes line up and they both smile. The Hunter starts to tap their feet in excitement. I roll my eyes and gently push her. “Well don’t just gawk at her, go get her!” 

“Carrie!” 

“Mia!” the Titan and Hunter embrace and I make my way out of their blooming conversation. I can’t help but smile myself as they both gleefully chat away, hands waving in the air as they speak to one another. My fingers brush my ear, tucking away a few stay strands of silver hair. A thought dawns on me. 

Talk about meetings, shouldn’t I find Ikora? It’s now light and everyone is waking up. Wait. Wen. Where is Wen? I haven’t seen her since I’ve been up. Where did she go too? 

“Wen, Wen! Wen! Where are you?” I call out, trying not to draw a lot of attention to myself. 

“Hello!” she speaks, appearing literally out of thin air. A shiver runs down my spine. I wasn’t expecting that sudden of a response. 

“Wen! How...how did you do that?” Wen giggles and does a flip in the air. My, she is in a good mood. 

“What? Reappear and disappear? It’s a thing all Ghost’s do. We become visible or invisible. Visible when you want us to summon your Sparrow or jumpship or invisible while you’re on a mission or playing the Crucible.” I nod my head. Technology has enhanced since I’ve been alive. However long that timespan is. 

“That’s handy,” 

“Incredibly,” she smiles with her electronic eye. “Now, we must hurry! Ikora’s Ghost has been pestering me with questions! Wondering where you are and when you will arrive and if she should brew some herbal tea!” 

I grin from ear to ear. “Tea would be nice. Don’t you think?” 

“Ikora’s tea? Oh, if you turn it down, you are missing some of the best tea in the universe.” 

“I have a lot to expect then,” 

“Your taste buds won’t be the same after this meeting. I can guarantee it.” 

We arrive in a vast chamber with an enlarged circling structure twisting and turning without air. I peer into the mechanism, feeling small. But I can’t take my eyes off of the glowing orb that resides in the center. What purpose does this contraption hold? It is just for looks? What does it do? Does it deal with the Light? Or the Traveler? Or is this a creation with an unknown mystery? Or is it just for looks? 

Soft voices hang above my head as two leaders stand side by side over a desk. I let my hand glide up the railing, it’s smooth and nice to touch. As odd as it sounds. Once at the top, my mouth drops as row upon row of books, maps, and other detailed records and encyclopedias of multiple kinds fill the shelves. Papers are spread on the desk before them, mathematical tools are also thrown in the mix. Two unfamiliar Ghosts float beside their Guardians as I approach, my knees feeling a bit weak. Their individual aura’s are strong and influential. Who am I to speak to them? I muster the tiny bits of courage together and raise my voice. 

“Excuse me, I’m looking for Ikora?” The woman clad in purple robes with her hands placed behind her back turns towards me. Her face is as hard as stone, yet chiseled with unbound wisdom and strength. I can hardly breathe in her presence. 

“Who is asking?” her deep voice is laced with authority. I keep my posture steady. Don’t fall over. Don’t trip over your own feet. Don’t make yourself look like a fool. Most definitely not in front of her. 

“Me. My Ghost, Wen, made a time for us to meet.” Wen pops up and greets Ikora. The friendly face eases the growing tension. 

“Ah, so you are the new Warlock this Ghost couldn’t stop chatting about. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Guardian.” Ikora holds her hand out and I take it. Not too fast, I’d look desperate, but not too slow to make her wait. A smile creeps onto her face and I’m able to breathe again. 

“Yes, Wen has been a big help with this new Guardian lifestyle. I’m thankful to have her by my side.” 

“Yes, Ghost’s are our closest friend, especially in such dark times. But, we aren’t here to talk about sorrow and despair. A much lighter topic will do. Would you care for some tea?” her hand waves over the cast-iron kettle with matching teacups. Three cups are set before the kettle, two are already filled. 

Wen taps the side of my head. I snap back into reality. “Yes, yes, of course. I’m sorry. I thought the talk about tea was a joke or prank.” She pours me some tea and a strong aroma fills the space between us. The man clad in all-white takes his leave, his Ghost silently trailing after him. 

“Oh no, tea is always served when I am around. Cayde has his ramen noodles and Zavala picks at cookies and other sweets when he thinks no one is looking.” I chuckle at this small tidbit of information. Those two seem quite the characters. They must be the other two Vanguard leaders. Or so logic would deem. 

“I am thankful for that, it seems chilly this morning. Are we in autumn or winter?” Ikora curls around her own cup of tea. She glances down into the steam, a flash of gold gleams in the morning light. I tilt my head to the side. Such a faint yet sophisticated detail brings out herself in a way words cannot. She is built with beauty, knowledge, and brute force. I’m in awe. 

“The Winter Solstice is in the upcoming month. Winter is coming, along with the chances of snowstorms from the North. But we are still in autumn, the last days of her change.” 

“Do you like Winter?” she scoffs and pulls out two stools for us to sit upon. We relax into the conversation. 

“I do not favor the season. I prefer spring. The new life, the flowers blooming throughout the Tower and the tree having leaves once again. Everyone seems to be in a merrier mood, and I for one enjoy seeing joy in all Guardians. But, I must say, Sparrow racing is a favorite of mine.” she sets the cup down. “But we aren’t here to discuss racing. I am Ikora Rey, the Warlock Vanguard and mentor. You are a Warlock. Shall I tell you of the Class or do you want to ask your questions? You must have many.” 

“Too many. I can’t name them all. I don’t even know where to begin.” 

“Choose where you want to start and go from there.” I somehow thought that was going to be her answer. 

“Who am I? Or what am I?” 

“You are an Awoken, similar to a human but born from the depths of the universe. Or some say they are gifted by the Void of space with another life.” Alien. In a very short phrase, alien. From outer space. But I was found in a cave on Earth. I never made it into the stars. I never touched the cosmos in my previous lifetime. Or not that I can recall. Her counsel isn’t in my favor. I’m only swarmed with more questions. 

“But why wasn’t I brought back as I once was? Assuming I was human in my first life.” 

“We cannot start to understand the Traveler and the universe we are apart of. But everything that happens in our previous life and second life holds meaning. To completely understand life isn’t thrilling, but instead, dive into the unknown with curiosity.” A familiar hum fills the air. 

“Is that quote from the female philosopher?” Ikora’s eyes dance at the connection. 

“Yes, it is. She would have made an excellent Warlock, greater than myself probably. Her wisdom would have helped us greatly. She may even have been part of the Vanguard if I didn’t accept the position. Or her life cut short by the Darkness.” 

“Does no one know her true name?” 

“She went by many names. Healer, shaman, sage, philosopher, wanderer, master, scholar, mentor, all name’s she didn’t give to herself but was given by those she encountered. She was wise, kind, gentle, and held a tender heart. She knew the troubles of everyone in her path. For she walked in their shoes in her lifetime. Her family abandoning her or she left her family due to her parent’s beliefs, but nonetheless, she held onto what she believed. She held onto what she deemed as righteous and gave her wisdom to all who came to her-” 

“Except Rezyl Azzir.” her eyebrows rise. 

“Yes, how do you know that name?” 

“I spoke too another Guardian before meeting you, their name was Shaxx. He classifies himself as a Titan and the one who runs the Crucible.” 

“Lord Shaxx, yes, a wonderful Guardian and an amazing mentor,” she shifts on her stool, sensing further explanation to come. “Yet, he brought up Azzir?”

“Yes, and the philosopher you spoke of.”

“Those two go back, how far? None of us know. The only in stone facts we know is they both were alive during the Dark Age and somehow crossed paths. He needed her aid, she didn’t give it to him, and he took her life, supposedly.” 

“Is that how you honestly think she met her end?” Ikora smirks and I don’t know if I should find it thrilling or terrifying. A little bit of both is healthy, probably. 

“No, I don’t believe a mind such as hers would fall to a being of Darkness. Azzir was a strong foe, but she was wise beyond his years. I don’t believe she fell to Darkness.” 

That’s when I ask the question everyone is afraid to bring up. Especially to a Warlock. “Then what do you believe?” 

“I believe she succumb to her death, naturally or not. The Dark Age was indeed a time of death and destruction. I don’t believe she died by the sword or any mortal weapon, but of sickness and ill health. That is what I believe but, it isn’t a fact. What I believe others may not, but that is my understanding.”

“Do you think you would have made peace with her or would your ideology clash with her morals?” Ikora lightly laughs and takes a sip of tea. 

“I would dream to do the opposite. I would have loved to argue with her. To see the fire in her eyes, to see her heart ring out loud and clear in her answer, to see her life played out before her, to know her fully. I would have loved it. I wish I could have met her.”


	3. Ghost Fragment 3: /What if you combined all the Factions titles? /That would be...um. The Dead New Monarchy Cult? /*Wen chuckles* A string of hypocrisy and irony.

Running away and hiding was always the answer when terror or beings of unknown origins struck. Never to fight. Never to return the rigid force they brought upon us. Never to stand up for ourselves. But to run and regroup. Rebuild the colonies. Reconnect with the few humans who are left. Share food with others. Give to those who have less than you. Expect no favor returned for your gift and mercy. And always be on your guard. Friends are limited and danger lurks around all bends.

Life shouldn’t be lived like this. 

I don’t want to run, I’m tired of running. I don’t want to hide, there is no place deemed safe anymore. Where shall we turn? Enemies are upon us on all sides. Humans, aliens, strangers, even our own friends, and family are turning on one another. These are dark times indeed. This isn’t a time for fighting and bickering between the lower classes, or all classes, this is when we should come together and learn from those who have done wrong and do the right thing. 

But no one seems to agree with me. 

That doesn’t surprise me one bit. 

This “wandering group” I’ve been living in for most of my life have been dividing into different mindsets. No one speaks of it, no one brings up the diverse and vast possibilities, they just huddle together and speak in hushed tones. That is suspicious in any matter. We are all together in this struggle. We can’t fall apart now. But with time, all seems to be crumbling. These so-called Factions are rising and becoming more popular, three of them have formed with sturdy foundations as ours are becoming dust. 

There is the Future War Cult, those who believe no matter where we turn too if we run to the stars or stay here on Earth, we shall face war and we must be prepared. Which is understandable. War is common these days. Villages are burned, towns looted and destroyed, families are torn apart, war is here. External conflict rings with the internal battlefield we all suffer. But, to me, war shouldn’t be the answer. We have seen enough bloodshed. I’ve watched enough people mourn over the dead. I’ve seen enough to know war isn’t the answer when it continues to come out wrong. 

But once again, who am I?

Secondly, the band of New Monarchy. They see the future as guided by law and order, wise and right that is, but with all the confusion and madness, there will be no peace. There will be no order when they are trying to bring back an age that has passed. The Golden Age is no more. Bringing back the dead will not create a steady future. Their ways of leading and leadership is true, together people shall rise, but at this moment the only ones who are rising to the top are Warlords, high persons of mighty power, these named “Risen”, and people who have power to control forces we have never seen before, all linked to this orb in the sky. The Executor's ways are respectable and true, but not attainable in this life. 

But once again, who am I?

Lastly, the Faction my parents speak highly of, and quite honestly, never shut up about. The final Faction: Dead Orbit. Those who deem a haunting Darkness is coming and the only way to escape this coffin-like life is too run to the stars. Create new colonies on other planets, forge new ways of life, leave behind the technology of the Golden Age and more forward into a possible future. In the end, humanity's survival is the key. And running away from whatever that orb in the sky did, giving inhumane strength to those who are looked upon as worthy, is just in the Arach’s eyes. As those who follow him preach “the City shall not last”. Which is true for all created by human hands or nature itself. 

But once again, who am I?

I’m a low life, barely hanging on to the life I have left. Following two elders who are blinded by their own desires. To leave this place. Or even be dead. I don’t know their thoughts, but we have seen enough to know there isn’t much hope here. A little, but not much. I might not follow their esteemed ways, but I follow my heart, and I believe in hope. Not in people of power or high jurisdiction. No. I shall not give my respect to those who look down upon us like fleas. We are people, we are alive. We have a conscious. We deserve respect. 

No. I shall not follow those who look at us as less than themselves. 

I toss the torn book onto a pile of scratchy sacks, soon to be my bed in a couple of hours. I lay upon the ground, deep in thought, while a crackling fire soothes the anxiety clawing in my chest. My parents still aren’t home. Yet they worry about me wandering away from the troop in the middle of the night. I roll my eyes. 

Who am I to care what they do? They follow a man who believes the stars in the sky hold all the answers to our current problems. “The stars, we must go to the stars!” my father preaches to those who also reside in the camp. I fear my connection to them has caused a bitter taste in everyone's mouth. For food is scarce, but loyalty is on the edge of a knife. You never will know who will turn on you. You never know when an enemy will strike. You live in a constant state of fear of the unknown rather than looking upon it with curiosity. Instead of looking for answers, they blame one another for the fall of the Golden Age. 

I don’t bother myself in their discussion of politics and righteous deeds. I’d rather read and feed my brain some knowledge which is true and not from the mouths of someone who is greedy and owns a one-track mind. 

And anyway, who would listen to me? I am young, naive, supposedly unknown to the tragedies and sorrows life holds. I roll my eyes. I’ve lived through those tragedies, I’ve been told of destruction beyond measure in stories and tales I can recite from memory. I know what life is. I know what it can behold. Life isn’t meant to be perfect, but that doesn’t mean you won’t suffer. Suffering is proof you’re living, so live. Suffer until your pain doesn’t bother you anymore, not that you become immune, but you find joy in all you encounter. Even in the moments of darkness and death. 

A flower may die because winter comes, but that doesn’t mean winter lasts forever. 

A large bird flies over the camp, their wingspan long and lean. I sit up and squint my eyes. In the faint moonlight, a golden shimmer reflects off of the ring on its talons. My fingers contact with the cold ground as a constant rumble becomes pronounced. I jump up from my spot, grab my book, and scream. 

“Raiders!” 

Torches erupt from the forest surrounding us. Men and women clothed in garbs of animal skins and fine jewels smile as they begin to pillage our settlement. I dash into my parent’s tent, taking a weapon I’ve been working on in secrecy. With the blade in hand, I crouch behind a stone and wait to strike. 

Women, men, and children scream as their tents and livelihood soar into flames. Some fall by the sword. Some are banished by the fire the raiders brought. No matter the cause, this has to end. A tall man wrapped in what seems to be silver and weak steel growls like an animal. He bends down and I jab my sword into his side. He wails in pain and I draw the blade from the wound. He falls, eyes wide, hand clutching the gash I bestowed upon him. 

“Wrench,” he gasps. I scoff and take his own torch. 

“You attacked us. Did you honestly think someone wouldn’t fight back?” he smirks and his hand begins to glow dark red. 

“Your act of rebellion will be your undoing, little girl.” His free hand shoots out and clasps my ankle. What feels like a firestorm from his hand burns my leg. I cry out and jab the sword into his chest. I heave, in and out, bent over like a wind-lashed tree. What was that? Fire from his hands? No human being can control such power. No one can do that. 

I lift my eyes and see the impossible. What looks like bolts of lightning strike the food supplies, but there are no storms in the sky. The raider’s torches seem to dance and consume clothes and flesh with glee, as if alive. Lavender orbs litter the ground as if the earth suddenly opened up into nothingness. Men are struck down by the raiders enraging flames. Children wander too far and are swallowed by the ground. Women who are full of life, are struck down and become dark ash from stray yet powerful blue bolts, summoned out of thin air. 

This must be a band of those wild Risen. Those who find joy in death rather than in life. I charge towards a female raider who is holding onto another woman, choking her. I shove the blade into her back and she is forced to take her last breath. The woman falls from the raider’s greedy grasp, neck pulsing with an eerie purple glow. What is this? Who gave them this power? The woman I helped limps away, her breath shallow and wheezing. 

Expolsions echo throughout the trees, and those who are able to run, run for their lives. As they have been taught too. I duck behind a metal barrel, as thunder cracks the night sky. But there are no clouds. Civilians fall, faces into the ground, and the ground becoming a deep red. Metal weapons gleam in the moonlight. Some are carrying swords while other’s weapons make sounds like thunder. All that was once lively and a developing settlement becomes quiet and as calm as a gravesite with unmarked graves.

The troop of Risen crowd together as most of those I once knew fled or are slain. Tears sting my eyes, but I don’t let them fall. Now isn’t the time for tears. Now is the time for listening and planning. The bird of prey circles the dead bodies above and flies onto one of the Risen arms. One who holds a glorious cloak of jewels. 

A tall and thick armored Risen approaches another. “Where are Nova and Mathias?” 

“I do not know, Commander.” the one in higher garbs lowly shakes his head. As if in a state of grief. How can one such as him mourn? He has slain more than one in his lifetime. Yet he cares about one of his company? This is hypocrisy. You cannot hold one life above another. 

“Search the dead,” he orders, his voice cold as steel and as sharp as any blade. My grip on the hilt tightens, ready to be used. Before the assembly departs, a female Risen in long robes raises her hands. Fist closed. 

“Stop. We aren’t alone.” 

All eyes fall onto her. “What do you mean?” 

“The living hold life and the dead do not. We aren’t alone, commander. One seems to have stayed in their settlement. Seems they are quite stubborn.” the leader of the Risen scoffs. 

“A mere lowlife dares to threaten us? Where are they?” I hold my breath, ready to strike once they come close enough. 

“Don’t approach them, for if she remains, she must have been the one to kill Nova and Mathias.” 

“Then let’s end her shall we? An eye for an eye. She has taken two of our company, that shall not go unnoticed.” I feel a strange surge flow throughout my body. One of warmth, and stupendous sorrow. As if a mother crying over her children who have strayed. A whisper sings in my ear. 

Fight. Rise up and fight.

The woman steps forth, her head slowly turning. Her gaze shifts in my direction. My heart drops. She knows where I am. “Halt. Do not approach her.” the commander growls, almost like the man I killed. Were they related? Did they have such a close bond their personalities blended? Whatever the connection they had, they hold a spoonful of patience.

“Allastar, we don’t have time to waste-” 

“Cian!” she yells, he falls silent and she goes to his side. She leans against his helmet. “Can’t you feel it?” 

What seemed to be an invisible ripple affects the entire platoon of Risen. Their backs straighten, gaze forward and alert, bodies stiff and frightened. I knit my brows together. What can send fear into those whose hearts enjoy death and destruction? 

The leader leans into the woman, their voices hushed. “I can.” 

“Then you know we must take what we can carry then leave this place. If she understands herself than she understands us. We must tell Azzir about this, immediately.” 

“I couldn’t agree more.” they pull back from one another in harmony. The Risen male raises his hand. “Don’t look for the girl, take what you can and then we shall leave. Let her live. Azzir shall deal with her.” 

In a matter of a few hours, the camp we were rebuilding is looted and drained dry from all the resources we were collecting. The woman of much influence stands before the barrel, far enough her life isn’t in danger. But she knows where I am, and if I move, she will know it. My heart clenches in my chest. A deep desire starts to brew. I want to fight. I want to react. I want to fight back. I want to make my presence known. I want them to know who they are dealing with. 

But that isn’t the answer. War doesn’t settle the ongoing storm, it merely develops smaller battles. Thunder doesn’t cancel out thunder, it makes everyone deaf and afraid of the rain.

I helplessly watch the Risen take all they can carry and retreat into the woods which they came from. I throw my sword onto the ground and weep. Smoke rises in the midnight sky and I lay upon the ground with a broken heart and conscious. This isn’t the first time our camp, or a camp in general, was raided and plundered, but this one plucked a string in my heart. 

There were rumors of those who, like the Risen, hone mysterious powers of the elements and have stopped them from invading innocent lives and homes. Seems we didn’t have any luck. They weren’t here to protect us. No one was. Who could, ran. Who died, will stay until their bones turn into dust.

Except me. 

I want to run, but can’t. I am of the living and have no other choice but to continue to live. 

I rise to my feet, eyes swollen and red, gazing into the distance at the orb floating in the sky. 

Why did you come to us? Why has war broken out? Why is there hate in the hearts of many? 

Scholars and theologians thought the mystical orb held the answers to peace and prosperity for all generations to come. But only trouble has fallen upon us. Aliens from other worlds bombard our lives, friends become enemies in a day or less, persons with unspeakable brawn claim land and lives for their own glory and accomplishment. Nothing but trouble has come from this sphere, but it came here for a reason. And we do not know why. 

Or maybe we won’t ever know why. 

The future is hazy, but there is a future. And where there is a future, hope blooms among the thorns. 

Steady footsteps approach the scorched camp. Those who enter begin to cough at the thick smoke which lingers. My fingers clamp around the handle. 

“Vivek?” the voice causes my heart to rise. Then fall. “Vivek?!” they wail, thinking I am one of the slain. I weakly rise up and wipe my face. There in the smog and dust stands two persons, both clad in monotone colors and headdresses. 

There they stand. My mother and father. Those who follow Dead Orbit. Those who want to run away from the problems of today and tomorrow. Those who were in the City when the raiders attacked. Those who were far away. Those who aren’t among the dead but now are labeled as cowards. Those who know, this life isn’t worth living. My heart hardens at the sight of them. 

They see me in this state and still call me young and naive. For I know nothing in their eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this one is done and I'll be posting a new chapter for TFL soon!


	4. Ghost Fragment 4: /Family doesn’t always mean blood.

My mother wraps me in her trembling arms, eyes already damp with tears. Father shakes his head at the sight before us. He isn’t filled with mercy or grief, but resentment. Neither of them know the word love, just the understanding of being lucky. For in this situation, I was lucky enough to live. Not because I rose up to fight, but because in their mind, luck saves lives. Their luck being who they follow. The man who knows all the right answers. 

“I told them,” he mumbles, “I told them to come to the City.” he turns to us. I don’t know what to expect when they are around. All I know is, they don’t feel how I feel. And they never will know what stirs my heart. “Did I not warn them of the coming danger? Did I not tell them to come with us to seek out answers? Did I not warn them, Giana? Did I not tell them?!” he turns to anger in a moment of sorrow. He never was one to show the truth. Mother draws away from me and clings onto my father. An act I know all too well. 

“You did, dear one,” I cringe at her words. I never have been shown affection of this sort. Mother’s and father’s bond and commitment to one another is strong, but the life they created together means nothing. Or so it feels. Mother claps our hands together. “See, Vivek! You must join us! The stars are the answer! They saved you from death!” 

I cannot believe what I’m hearing. I cannot believe what I’m seeing. They refuse to see how broken this world is and who they are following won’t save their lives. They may live longer than others, but all must be put to an end. One way or another. 

My lips form to say the word ‘mama’ but this woman in front of me isn’t my mother. “No, the stars didn’t save me. I saved myself. I fought.” The very word, or idea that I would fight, causes her to back away into my father’s arms. She gasps and father’s cold glare doesn’t leave me alone. 

“Bless the stars above! Don’t say such things, Vive! You do not know what we have done for you by following the one who leads Dead Orbit. He has saved your life many times. Telling us when to flee when danger is near, telling us the path to salvation is to believe our lives must continue elsewhere!” my chin starts to tremble as their own brains and ways of thinking have been turned. Robotic and focused on one result. 

“Your speech of fighting almost sounds as if you are part of that violent Cult,” he speaks the words as if he was spitting out poison. “Are you part of the Cult, Vivek?” 

I cannot believe this is happening. “No! I wouldn’t allow myself to live if I followed such ideology! War hasn’t made us strong! War won’t end battles and suffering! They just prolong them!” 

“That is wrong! You are wrong!” father yells. I hold my ground, feet firmly placed. “War will continue on, people shall die, the very crust of the earth we know shall crack, but we shall live if we go to-” I grit my teeth. 

“Don’t you dare-” 

“Be quiet when you are being spoken to, young lady!” My father yells, his eyes burning red and hot like the Risen male’s. My fists ball, trembling at his tone. 

“No! I won’t be quiet when both of you are blinded by fear of the unknown and are brainwashed by those who do not understand the future!” 

Slap. 

My cheek burns as mother’s hand quivers. She quickly covers her mouth and comes to my side. I raise my hand, stopping her. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Vivek-” I back away from her, eyes beginning to mist. 

“Don’t touch me,” I whisper, heart pounding in my chest. “Don’t touch me ever again.” She reaches out, her hands nearly grabbing my face to pull me into her embrace. I take multiple steps back. One word rings in my mind. Venomous. Toxic. Lethal. Notorious. 

“Vivek, I didn’t mean to hit you.” I look at her fear-stricken face. She surprised herself. I won’t say I wasn’t surprised either. But every moment you’re alive, you learn. And I’m learning to let go. I push my hair back behind my ears and strap the sword to my side. “Vivek, please, don’t leave us. Our home has been burned, our livelihoods no longer matter, we don’t know where to go, we don’t know where the others went too-” 

“Then why don’t you go to your master. I’m sure he could furnish you with new clothes, new furniture, a new home, a new life. Why don’t you follow him.” I can’t help but let my words be sharp. What I said is what I meant. Life isn’t meant to remain constant after all. I must let go. 

Father plants his hand on my shoulder and squeezes. An action that once brought me to my knees, but now I’m not so weak. His fingers dig into my shoulder as he speaks. “Don’t be so rash, Vivek. We are the only ones you have now. We are the only ones you have left.” I clamp my hand around his wrist. He hisses in pain. 

“Don’t be so rash, father, mother, you have one another, and I have myself.” I drop his hand. “And that is enough for me.” I begin to walk away, leaving them in the settling dust. I pull the hood above my head and keep my eyes ahead of me. On the horizon. 

My father starts to fume. “Come back here, young lady! If you don’t come back, you will be alone for the rest of your life! You won’t be our daughter anymore! You won’t be held in a high position! You won’t be respected as we will! You will be alone! You won’t have anyone to comfort you! You will die, alone and wishing you could have joined us!”

His threats and words do not settle into my heart and I don’t take them into my mind. I do not ponder on them throughout the day into the night. I let them brush over me like a gentle breeze. Therefor a moment, then gone for the remaining eternity. 

My elders served their purpose, to point me in the direction I am supposed to go. Out in the Wilderness, alone.

I leave them in the middle of the raided campsite to find their own way in life. I have found mine, they found theirs. Even if we are on separate paths, we are meant to live them. They follow the teachings of Dead Orbit and I follow the haunting sadness in my chest. Whatever warmth filled my veins was meant to be. I was meant to be there, in that raid, in that moment of time. I was where I was meant to be for a reason. 

And I have a gut feeling it deals with that orb in the sky. The one who has caused so much trouble. The one who holds answers those of the wise do not understand. We don’t know why this created artifact came, but we can learn and understand the reasoning. 

It brought power to those it deemed as worthy, going by rumors, talk of the towns, other camps, and persons and strangers who have dwelt with us. The remaining Warlords hang above our heads holding an axe, the Risen come and go, killing and taking what they want, and we are we. Those who flee into the Wilderness or are drawn to the orb for a safe haven or a pull that links the soul. 

I do not know what the reason, but I will find out. If in a few days, weeks, months, or years. I will understand the tales and tell myth from fact. I will understand the laws of nature, I will understand how they manipulate the unnatural forces with such ease. 

I will understand this sphere. I will study such power it gives. I will learn from life and the lessons it teaches. I will grow in wisdom. I will become who I am meant to be. 

Even if no one listens to me or believes me. 

I will come and go, like a sleek shadow among the night hours. One the moon can only spot and human eyes shall miss. Blink and you’ll miss me. Blink and I shall be out of your sight. 

…

The road to the City is harsh and uneven yet trails from all around meet up in one place. Below the orb. Faint lines and tattered branches in the woods become worn treks from boots and shoes alike. What was once narrow begins to broaden, no longer the single line but thick and for many feet to follow in the future. 

I have ventured through dense forests, flat plains, and over mountains to finally see what I see now. What those who have visited here called a safe haven. Those who reside underneath the mystery. Those who live in the City. 

I pull my cloak over my face. I may not be known in these parts but I know of them. Those of the Factions, those of the Risen, those who are breed in Iron, and ordinary civilians and foreigners, like me. 

I find myself wandering the busy streets. Dim, glowing lights, brightly painted signs, and little shops and stands make the space seem lively, but dread and anxiety hangover everyone. Those who were raided hold a stillness in their faces, eyes blank and staring into the distance, lips as if sewn shut by an invisible string. Their tale I know by heart. One I can find myself in. For I was once like them. Silenced by the war, grief-struck, not wanting to become close to anyone in the fear that their death would be my cause. But I grew from the circumstance I was in. So must they. But that is for those to choose, not for me to force upon them. 

Men, women, and children walk side by side through the streets. Garbs and dress ranging in color and design. I knit my eyebrows together as their clothes are strange but fascinating. Maybe I too should trade these rags for something more presentable? I will think about it. 

I’ve noticed around every main turn or square one of those Risen, deemed as good (and comparable to gods), stand guard with a weapon in hand. I’ve seen every class as those who raided us. I’ve been able to identify names or possibilities. There are Titans, the ones with thick armor and strong arms. They are common around the squares. Hunters, who are known for stealth and secrecy and unfathomable skills with blades. Then, at last, Warlocks who devel into magic and the unknown rather than putting their faith into casual crafted weapons. But none of them have burning hands or have made the ground opening up into a void, or summoned lightning from the sky when there was no storm around. 

Are they not to do such in public and under the eyes of those deemed as mediocre? 

That is a possibility, but I do not know the whole tale. As do others here, I’m lead to believe. 

I gently press my hand on the shoulder of a woman. Her deep brown eyes bear into mine, hard from the past she experienced, yet soft like a mother. 

“Yes?” I hold my breath. Wait. What was I going to ask? Oh, right, right.

“Is there a sort of library or archives I could read into?” she scoffs and shakes her head. Does she find my question funny? 

“Those who are deemed by the Risen, or are Risen themselves, only have permission to enter the Vaults or any type of archives from the Golden Age.” I briefly smile and give her my thanks and blessing. 

So, the library of knowledge and of the archives of old are stored away and under protection by Risen. Life never was meant to be easy. But those who continue to strive towards what they want and deem right will come to them. 

But before I venture on, my appetite needs to be fulfilled. 

I sit down on a worn leather chair, underneath a cover of some sort with strokes of black ink. If it is used for privacy, I beg they have it all wrong for it doesn’t touch the ground or cover their customers. But maybe it isn’t supposed to be used in that way. Everything has more than one purpose, normally. I lift the tattered menu before my eyes, the writing is nearly faded away but I’m able to make out the words. Pictures of deep, circular bowls and noodles cover the page, this must be some type of soup. Which is fine by me. 

As time goes by, the rich aroma of spices laced in stock, vegetables, and meat of all kinds make my stomach growl. Children of mixed races run underneath my feet as the cook, who has similar features, waves a ladle in the air. She returns to her workspace then moments later, places a bowl of goodness before me. 

“I’m so sorry for the wait,” she sighs and fixes a few strands of her hair. “My husband is away, and no one else can watch them.” 

“Oh, no need to apologize, ma’am, I have time and patience. Thank you for this meal and bless you, and your children.” she smiles and bows before me. 

“Thank you, may you be blessed also,” she retreats back into the kitchen with a solemn expression. My heart aches for her. To be busy with an income for more than one child and a father who is elsewhere, stress is on her shoulders. I wish I could remove such a burden. Just for a day. 

But I know, deep down in her very being, she loves her children. So much. 

For that reason, I am jealous.

The warm broth fills my stomach as the moon begins to rise into the sky above. Night draws close, people clear out of the streets yet few remain. The cook relaxes into one of her worn chair with a full bowl, nearly spilling over, and just like clockwork, her children appear by her side. Eyes shining like pools of water in the sunlight. I can’t help but smile at their eagerness. 

“Mama! Mama!” they jump up in the air, hands high above their heads. She laughs and lifts them up onto her knees. I take the last drop of soup and dab my mouth with the cloth provided. 

“Alright young ones, who wants the boiled egg?” the young girl wiggles on her mom’s lap. 

“Me!” 

“And who wants the seaweed?” the older boy licks his lips and smacks them together. 

“Me!” They both dive into the meal provided, faces covered in broth and fresh herbs. I place my bowl on the stand and slide a few extra coins on top of the napkin. I walk on over to the family and put my hands on my knees. Both children turn their attention to me, eyes wide with curiosity. The mother greets me with a smile. 

“Hello, I have a small gift for your children.” I reach back into my bag and pull out nothing. “I thought I had something..? Oh, what’s that sound?” My hands slide behind their ears and then two gold coins appear. They both clap their hands, cheeks blushed and thoroughly excited at the act. 

Their mother kisses their heads. “What do you say to the kind lady?” 

“Thank you, miss!” they say in unison. I bow before them and ruffle their dark hair. 

“You are welcome. Now, enjoy your meal.” Merry laughter fills the night as I walk away from them. 

I wish I could say I left that family with a happy heart and joyful soul. Content and fulfilled by what I did. I do, in honesty, but a faint sting of pain continues to prick at my heart. One I cannot name but it haunts me. No. One I’ve known for an age and haven’t dared speak its name. For I have been there myself. 

Strangers and kind folk sharing their gifts and treasures without a second thought. Just to make a child smile. Just so they can feel good about themselves. Just so they can feel accomplished by doing their daily deed of good. Or maybe it is from their gentle soul. I cannot tell. 

But I do remember receiving small handmade toys, coins, trinkets, tools, gifts they saw as abundant for the time being when in reality, everything breaks down and becomes dust in the end. 

The best gift is love. For it lives on. And they have it. One family out of millions. I envy them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter might not seem important, but to me it is, A LOT, so yeah, it brings out pre-Tsillah and her situations, anyways, I gotta shut up. 
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed it!


	5. Ghost Fragment 5: /New Monarchy followers aren't ones you want to pick a fight with. They have boldness and nerve while Future War Cult has weapons of their own making. I don't know which one is worse.

With another day gone by, I wander deeper into the City. The diversity of persons continue to surprise me, it seems a new species or race of alien, human, or unknown origins joining day by day. As I said before, we all struggle, and they seem to know that here they won’t need to rationalize or store food away for the remaining months or weeks. Or won’t have to face uncertain judgment and hushed voices of passing strangers. Everyone knows everyone and we all know too well problems, conflicts, and struggles fair everyone. No matter how great or small your way is in this world. 

There is a certain peace in knowing life isn’t meant to be perfect. We can grow towards perfection if we reach it or not is up to us, and not someone else. 

Our life is our own. 

Familiar symbols and colors fly in the subtle wind. Flags, posters, stickers, pamphlets are filled with words and faces I know all too well. 

The alluring Factions. 

While I find them quite disgusting. 

Soon the civilian’s clothes become fragmented, divided by the three leaders. Also, the crowds seem to be thinning out which is strange if the followers were deemed as many. 

I turn to one clad in red and gold, someone who is around my age, though they are a whole head taller than me. His silver eyes flash as I approach. His arms pressed against his chest and what seems to be a dagger hangs at his hip. The air between us shifts from tension to something I really don’t like. 

He speaks before I can question him. “What do you want, honey? Looking for a place to sleep for the night?” he smirks and bumps his friend’s shoulder. I raise an eyebrow at his behavior. How so not kind of him. My lack of an immediate response causes him to continue. He leans closer to me. My hand brushes against the hilt of my blade. “Cause if you need a place, I can hook you up with a hot one.” I roll my eyes. 

Some people don’t have brains. 

Those who follow these Factions don’t understand the mental damage they’re inflicting upon themselves by choosing to follow a blind leader. It doesn’t matter if they are man, beast, or machine. 

I take a step back and he doesn’t like that. But I can breathe again so, I don’t care what he thinks. 

“No thank you, I am here to ask you about the other two Factions.” it’s his turn to roll his eyes. 

“That’s what you want to know about? The Dead Brains and the War Cunts? There is nothing interesting about them. I don’t care what they say, we won. We didn’t lose to them.” The sudden shift in the conversation turns somewhere I didn’t expect it too. 

“Didn’t lose what?” he sighs and takes a seat on a barrel. 

“There was a brawl some months ago, or however long, I don’t know. It got out of hand, but we were resolving so many things. The Dead Brains started to cower away like expected, and the War Cunts brought out their own weaponry. So we brought ours in response. But before we could even get into the heat, this person, this Risen arrives, out of nowhere, and steps in. Handling all three sides at once. I wanted to keep going,” he growls. One of his friends, an Awoken I believe they are called, comments. 

“That female Exo would have cut off your head if Azzir didn’t step in.” 

He scoffs. “So? I was fighting for what I believed in. If I died, my blood would have been on her hands. I wouldn’t mind if she lived in regret for the rest of her life. She would have taken an innocent life, and that shouldn’t sit well with anyone.” 

“You were cussing her out, man.” 

“So? She deserved it.” 

How the lines of good and evil are blurred, and righteousness and justice are confused for revenge and spite. These three Factions hate one another with all of their wellbeing. I wonder if peace can come out of this. I doubt it by their ability to not settle with one another is clear. Agreeing to disagree isn’t a term well known by those with heads as hard as stone. 

“Who is this Azzir? I’ve heard his name before.”

“Look, lady, all I can tell you about him is due to his oh so “heroic act”, we lost followers by the folds. He doesn’t even want to be a leader. Azzir isn’t one to follow, even I know that.” he sticks his nose in the air. 

“Yet you asked me-” 

“Don’t bring that up now.” I try to bring the conversation back. 

“So, the Factions had a serious spat, and it’s fair to say, everyone lost?” he jumps up from his spot. My words clearly didn’t settle with him. 

“We didn’t lose anything. We only thinned out those who weren’t loyal to the Monarchy.” he hisses. A loyal member he is, nearly radical. Also, one who cannot tell good from evil. If someone was spewing foul words at me, I would want to put an end to their arrogance. I wouldn’t go through with such a plan, but it would be desirable. But falling into one’s desire only ends in destruction. Especially around loyalty and love.

I want to make my departure soon. I am starting to see my father in this young man.“Thank you for your input.” I turn to leave and continue on my way but his hand ends up on my shoulder. 

“Do you honestly think you’re getting all of that information for free? You better think again, darling.” his eyes seem to dance to a tune I don’t know. But I know the gaze he possesses. Desire. Lust. Hunger. Impatience. An unforgiving yearning. 

“I asked you a simple question-” 

“And I will get something in return. A favor for a favor.” 

“I never agreed to such terms.” he scoffs and comes closer, those behind him join in. 

“That’s what comes with curiosity and someone who doesn’t mind their own business. The truth.” The band of men circles around like vultures. And here I thought I’ve seen my due of those dirty creatures on my journey here. Fear rises in my heart but I do not cry out. I don’t fear them or what they will do to me. 

A sense of peace comes over me, along with that supportive whisper. 

Fight. Rise up and fight.

The song rings in my heart. I won’t let these Monarchs get what they want. 

My hand is still on my blade. “Don’t do this.” 

“Oh, I know I want too.” he reaches towards me, soon the others join in.

With no hesitation whatsoever, I draw my blade and slice his hands open. Not deep enough to cause severe damage, though I crave such a result, but enough to be more than a mere flesh wound. This he will have to wrap and aid for months. I’ll make sure he won’t touch anyone with that greedy intent for a long time. The crowd draws back, eyes wide. I pull out a cloth and clean the blade of his blood. 

“Take that as a warning,” 

“Wretch!” he yells, retreating into the arms of another Monarch. His face begins to pale over, out of freight or loss of blood I do not know. But I do not care. With my blade clean and now visible, I can read the followers morphing faces. None of them are bold enough to face me head-on. And that’s how it should be.

I raise my head. “You threatened me, remember?” in the background a woman in royal robes approach, her eyes dark like the space between stars. 

“Is everything alright, miss?” her deep voice sends shivers throughout the company and I find such joy. I turn to her.

“It is under control thanks to your keen eyes, thank you.” she nods her head and escorts the group of followers to the New Monarchy quarters. With little resistance of course. They weren’t so fond of a Risen, once again interrupting their deeds, especially a female Warlock, judging by her garb. I silently bless her with a prayer as she disappears out of my sight. 

Thank the stars for those like her. 

Those who stick up for others who cannot. 

Bless them all. May their lives be fulfilled and bountiful. 

With a bit of walking, eating, and more intel, I make my way toward a room to rest. Or a house with available space to lend a stranger until the sunrises. 

Three houses down, no luck. The presence of a stranger makes civilians quiver than have an open heart to someone in need. This is not true for all, but just those I have encountered so far. But if worst comes to worst, I’ll reside outside of the City. In a tree or bed of grass or moss. Maybe it would be better away from civilization, so it seems. 

With a heavy heart, I head towards the gate. Seven houses all filled. I guess those like me had the same thought. Except they were successful in the end. But no matter, they got what they want, and I am happy. A yawn slides by my lips as the moon rises higher into the night. No bedding tonight, but I won’t go hungry or starve, that is pleasant to dwell on. All isn’t lost. 

A soft voice runs throughout the alley. I pay no attention. Then it goes again. I venture on, eyes starting to close on me. 

“Psst. Psst!” I turn my gaze to a firm wooden pole. A Risen Hunter leans on the beam, a thundering weapon at his side. 

"Yes?" He makes himself known and goes underneath the torch. And it might be my imagination or lack of sleep, but the flame seemed to grow in his presence as if he was controlling it. 

"What are you doing out here? Shouldn't you be in your quarters?" He says it with such ease as if he knows me. But I'm a complete stranger to him.

"I don't---I don't have anywhere to sleep." 

His eyes light up. "Oh, you must be a newcomer!" He wraps his arm around my shoulder. I tense underneath his weight but his aura is different than those of the New Monarchy followers earlier that day. It's like mine. Whatever mine feels like. "Here, in the City, is your home now."

"But I-" don't know what you mean. 

"No, no talking, you look absolutely exhausted. How far did you travel to get here?" He states how exhausted I am, then asks me a question. Ironic. 

"I don't know the exact length, but far enough, I guess. I came here to find more out about," I point to the looming sphere about us, "that." 

"You mean the Traveler?"

"Yes if that is what you call it."

"Are you Risen?" I rapidly blink my eyes at his question. Me? One of those who harness the power of nature itself? He must be joking. I chuckle and shake my head. 

"No, I came to discover more about this Traveler as you called it. I am not one of your kind." The Hunter's eyes wander around my figure. His brows suddenly scrunch together, not convinced at my truth. 

"You are positive?" I scoff at his persistence. 

"Yes, I am human." He hums to himself and stands before me. 

"Can you hold your hands out?" 

His command has me baffled on all levels of ridiculousness. "Yes?" What could be so important about my hands? He places his over mine, hovering. His oddity continues to rise. 

"Can you feel anything in your fingers or bones? Or even your veins? This weird, yet awesome surge of power? This unexplainable---something but, no matter what, makes you feel sad?"

Now that fact, I cannot deny.

I swallow the lump in my throat. 

"Does this feeling of sadness mean anything to you?" I question him. His eyes cast down on the ground. 

"I think it's the Traveler calling out to those it can trust." I tilt my head to the side.

"In contrast to those it can't trust?" I shake my head, almost believing him and his far-out story. Sure Risen persons who were dead can come back to life, but this? How illogically can this be? "Never mind that last thought. But isn’t the Traveler a machine?" The Hunter grins as my curiosity starts to bloom even more. 

"No one knows what the Traveler is. Besides the fact it made us come together."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess the pros of a sick day is being able to write a bit and sleep a lot and drink tea.... there are plenty of cons though, but, today will be focused around tea, toast, writing, sleeping and probs a bit of reading. I call that a good day for being sick. *insert thumbs up*


	6. Ghost Fragment 6: /This Azzir...he is popping up everywhere in everyone’s story.

After wandering outside of the City for months upon months, then being in the profound City for a week or so (honestly I’ve lost count), and finally being in the spot where I am meant to be, is a blessing. I don’t know this Risen Hunter, but he is leading me straight to where I want to go. Where I’ve meant to go for a while now. The Archives. The underground library where Golden Age relics and past memorabilia still remain, even if they are few. Where I can find the answers I’ve been desperately seeking. To understand this Traveler and fellow Risen. To understand life before I came to be. To seek out results so the future doesn’t fall into this pattern again. 

Following the Hunter through layers of doors and guards lead me to expect a vast change in the scenery. The difference between the City life and those who are Risen is surprisingly not ecstatic. I guess those who are underneath the Traveler value what they have and rather than exploiting others for their wealth, like the Risen who raided the campsite, they know the life of those who are low and seen as nothing. They are here to protect those who cannot fend for themselves. They are here not to gain any reward for good deeds, but because they know it is right. Their morality is brilliant and that’s where other people’s heads should be. 

Not with the Factions. Not with leaders who claim falsehoods. 

The Risen philosophy is to my liking. I will never speak such words out loud. But I agree with them. 

The kind Hunter points out the gathering areas, places to sleep or rest, where their mentors stand for their classes (I’m linking the classes with the fire, electricity, and purple void I saw earlier) and of course where community meals are held. There are other oddities such as missions or bounties as he likes to call them bounties, “it makes it sound wilder when called a bounty”. I don’t bother asking why he believes such things. 

He takes me over to an elongated table filled with all sorts of food. None of them seem appetizing to me, I have grown quite fond of the woman’s ramen. I settle for a bottle of water and some bread. While my tour guide dives into what looks like grilled or seared chicken. It smells delicious, but I don’t know if my stomach could handle it. 

“That’s all you’re going to eat?” he makes out between his bites. I nod my head and take a seat. 

“At the moment, I’ve got a lot going through my mind right now.” 

“Ah, I gotcha,” he takes the empty spot beside me. “Can I ask you a question?” 

“Of course,” I can’t deny his curiosity. 

“Why weren’t you hesitant when I approached you?” 

“I don’t understand your question.” I do understand his question, don’t get me wrong, but he stated it vaguely. If I was trying to swat air, I would swat air. A vague question is asking for vague feedback and I don’t think he is one for dull conversations. 

He takes a deep breath and claps his hands together. “People who come to the City have diverse backgrounds and reasons why they are here. Most of them are due to Risen and or Warlords. So, I’m wondering why did you trust me when there is a slight chance your livelihood and life was destroyed by someone who is a Risen, like me?” I lean back into the chair. 

“Ah, I see,” the moon above us continues to rise, and the sleepiness that once held onto me now has vanished. “I know, from experience, that there are two sides to every story and person. Those who have power and use it for personal benefit, and those who harness it for good deeds that do not come with glory but because they know what they must do. Those who invaded my camp wanted temporary and materialistic gain, while you use your power to aid those around you. Trust is a weak word to use, rather an instinct that gives the soul peace or storm. That is how I go.” The Hunter nods his head in agreement or sympathizing with my words, I don’t know. But maybe it is for the better. 

“I see where you are coming from. You surely are confident with discerning good from evil. You make it seem painless.” I scoff. 

“If it was only that easy.” he crosses his legs now engaged with our discussion. 

“Why isn’t it then, oh philosopher?” I roll my eyes at the title. I have no mind that vast. I merely apply common logic to the everyday situations I go through. It isn’t that hard to grasp. 

“Because humanity isn’t that simple. It would be effortless to sort out villains and heroes in casual civilians, but those who have light could hold a bit of darkness, and those who hold darkness could hold a bit of light. I cannot judge someone based on looks alone but I can discern their spirit. Eyes are said to be the portals into the soul, and that I fully believe. I can look at someone and tell if they are suffering, even though they portray supposed happiness. Words may lie, but actions don’t. The body may be able to morph into something acceptable, but the soul and spirit of someone bleeds through without them knowing it.” the Hunter’s eyebrows nearly rise into his hairline. 

“Okay, wait, you lost me at the end a bit.” I let out a light laugh and clap my hands at his honesty. “You’re saying that even though someone could come up with a believable facade and fool everyone, you could see through them?” 

“My first question to them would be why are they hiding what they are hiding? If you abide in someone, they should know you aren’t perfect on any measure. We all have our flaws, but that doesn’t mean we should be ashamed of them. We shouldn’t let ourselves or those like us be alienated due to the fact imperfection’s exist in humanity and in humans or even other species.” the Hunter draws close and stares at my face. I believe he is trying to read me. 

“So, if you were in the midst of an internal conflict you would tell those you trust?” 

“Logically yes, but at this moment, I have no one to go too so I confide with myself. Even though that sounds like it’s clashing with my theory. If that makes sense.” 

He waves his hands. “No, no, it makes sense. But would you rather go to someone for console or deal with it yourself?” 

“At the moment, being alone in the world isn’t so terrifying. But as I journey on, companions or friends would be greatly appreciated. But that is another topic for another time.” 

“So, bringing this all together, you followed me due to your sense of peace, and I’m assuming you felt peace.” 

“Actually, I felt the storm or a storm within you. One like mine, one I can’t quite grasp. A struggle for purpose and true understanding.” he chuckles and runs his fingers through his messy, blond hair. 

“You are such a Warlock,” he stresses. I cannot disagree with him. If Warlocks hold wisdom and understanding, then I shall call myself one. And do it gladly. 

“If you say so,” he scoots the chair closer. 

“How did you know I was struggling?” I shrug my shoulders and smile at him. 

“Aren’t we all?” 

\---

After gliding around the courtyard for a few days, I soon become familiar with the place. The flow, the aura, the space, the insight, the life here. If one is joyful with celebration, then joy resides in them all. If one Risen is lost in the field, they all weep with one another. It’s a community that acts as one and not individuals. Everyone is in a state of growth. It is quite lovely to view and be apart of. 

But I cannot forget my mission or bounty as my Hunter friend likes to refer to. I am here for the Archives. I am here to learn about the Traveler. Yet those who are closely linked to the machine in the sky seem not to hold the sadness in my chest. Or have they become accustomed to the ache that’s why they act the way they do. That’s why they always take action when someone is in need. They know the pain personally and know no one should be alone at such a time. 

I take a sip of juice as my friend is lounging on the grass. “You know, I never asked for your name.” He flips his hood up and I tilt my head to the side. 

“Well, trusting in someone does leave much room for names, especially in the middle of the night,” he smirks and I shake my head. 

“Well, then you shall remain nameless if that is alright?” 

“Fine by me,” 

“So, I am curious about the Archives the Risen hold under lock and key-” 

“Oh no, you are a Warlock,” he groans and spreads his arms out. “Would it hurt for another Hunter? Would it hurt that much Traveler?” I cannot contain the laughter from my lips. He is quite humorous. But a breath of fresh air is always allowed in my book. Especially when certain danger lurks all around us. Even in the midst of peace. 

“What is so bad about a Warlock?” 

“Nothing is bad about them, kind of, sort of. It’s just some of them are so stingy and stubborn and hold their heads way too high, not to mention their ego---in short, they think they are all mighty with their knowledge on every living thing in the entire universe and that gives them the right to gloat about it.” he goes quiet, swirling his cup of water around. “It gets tiring after a while.” 

“I believe it.” he groans and drags his hand down his face. “But this must apply to the other Classes as well shouldn’t it?” 

“Well technically yes, but-” 

“Then why do you press on those you clearly dislike the most? What do you get out of it?” 

He stares at me with a blank look. “I don’t mind Warlocks, just some of them are---intolerable.” 

“And there aren’t those in the Titan or your Class that drag you through misery?” 

“There are, Vixen drives me up the walls with her kill streaks and Aries---he lives up to his name is one too many ways. That Titan rams through any blockade and comes out unscathed, I swear all my glimmer, and Vesper-” one name causes him to go silent. His eyes fall to the ground, fingers wiggling in and out of one another. I watch him struggle with words. 

He’s nervous or scared. They must have left a drastic impact on him, one he cannot forget no matter how hard he tried. The stillness causes me to regret asking such a personal question (that I didn’t know was a personal question).

After minutes of silence, I lay a hand on his knee. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t feel comfortable-”

“No, no. It’s alright,” he takes in a deep breath. “Vesper she, she was the best out of us all. Not because she was a Warlock, but because she knew how to bring us all together. If it was her bad humor or ability to help us in tough situations, especially when Aries or Vixen couldn’t live up to their names. She was there. She was the backbone of our Fireteam. My Fireteam. More like her Fireteam, she was always the leader. I could never do half of what she did for us.” 

“May I ask another question?” he nods his head. “You speak of her as of the past. May I ask what happened to her?” a shadow falls over his face. His lips fall into a straight line. 

“The Factions and that Titan happened. I never liked them from the start or him. Rezyl Azzir, the now known god of the City. People and Risen are starting to worship the ground he walks on for stopping the Factions blood bath.” I falter. The young man from New Monarchy made it sound like a brawl, not an actual war. I shake my head. There is always more to every story. “Ever since then he has been gaining followers and admirers and he himself has begun to change. He’s morphing into something I can’t explain or even try to explain to you.” 

I fill in the blanks, connecting this whole occurrence back to his bitter taste for Warlocks. 

I lean towards him. “What happened to Vesper?” 

Our eyes meet and something in my gut twists uncomfortably. I know that he knows and he knows that I know. I need to hear him say it as much as he needs to hear himself say it. 

He smirks and his eyes seem to gleam with tears that refuse to fall. 

“She left us and joined him instead.” 

I exhale as he wipes away the tears from his eyes. I put my arm around him, he lays his head on my shoulder and mourns the loss of a dear friend. 

This Rezyl Azzir the more I learn, the less I like him. He is tearing apart families, friends, and ordinary folk without knowing it. Why hasn’t he spoken up? Why hasn’t he told his followers to disperse? What is holding him back? Why isn’t he taking the initiative?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excuse me for such a long silence....life has been life and I really can't stand it....so I'm trudging through, making it slowly but surely.... yeaaaaah...
> 
> I want Tsillah to gain a few friends (and trust) with other Risen Guardians before jumping into Azzir and his wholeeeeeeee lore thing (its gonna be one heck of a ride once it begins) so I hope all of y'all are ready!

**Author's Note:**

> What did you guys think? Yay? Nah? 
> 
> I will continue on when I can, once again, probably won't be weekly (like I wish) but when I post it, I post it. And the writing style will be like this, more into her character and thoughts then bouncing from events to events (like Eveningtide and The First Light). 
> 
> But I hope you guys enjoyed it! 
> 
> Peace out!


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